


someone's thinking about you

by readerie



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (briefly) - Freeform, 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Brotherly Love, Ceiling Vent Clint Barton, F/M, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Harley Keener is a Good Bro, Hiccups, Irondad, Mild emotional hurt/comfort, Movie Night, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Precious Peter Parker, Supportive May Parker (Spider-Man), Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, it sounds like crack but I promise it's not, mild spoilers for Onward, the boys cause mischief at a gala, very slight peter/mj
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24339208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readerie/pseuds/readerie
Summary: “You know, my mom always said that whenever you had the hiccups, it was because someone was thinking about you.”Peter hums. “That doesn’t seem scientifically accurate.”“It’s not.” Tony shrugged. “Some old superstition, I guess.”ORFive times Peter gets the hiccups (and one time Tony does).
Relationships: Harley Keener & Natasha Romanov, Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Harley Keener & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 47
Kudos: 184





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fandom goes wild for 5+1 fics, so I figured I'd give it a try. Enjoy!

Peter is elbows-deep in an old, half-destroyed Iron Man suit, a screwdriver in each hand and one in his mouth, when yet another violent hiccup jolts through him, causing him to promptly drop all three tools and slice open his finger on a jagged metal edge. He hisses and extracts himself from the bowels of the suit. Thankfully, the cut is shallow, but it’s long and stings something fierce.

“Give it a rest already, geez. I don’t need you to give yourself tetanus.” Tony’s tone is nonchalant, but his brows are furrowed in concern as he wheels himself over to Peter’s workstation and takes his hand, raising it up to his face to survey the damage. 

“Oh my gosh. I’m fine.” He tries to remove his hand from Tony’s grip, but he tightens his hold. “May keeps me up-to-date on all my vaccines. Also, I literally have super healing. It’ll be gone in like, a couple hours.” He hiccups again.

“Hmmm. You make fair points, Mr. Parker,” he considers, spinning himself slowly back and forth in his chair. “At least let me put some Neosporin on it or something?”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Fine,  _ Mother,”  _ he concedes, and Tony triumphantly orders DUM-E to fetch the first aid kit. Peter hiccups three times in quick succession. “Hey, aren’t you like, a super genius?”

Tony grabs the proffered kit from DUM-E’s arm and starts rifling through its contents. “So I’ve been told.”

“So why do we— _ hic— _ get hiccups anyway?”

“Do I look like a medical doctor to you? Something about the diaphragm or something, I don’t know. Aha!” He lifts the tube of Neosporin into the air. “Come here.” 

Peter extends his hand towards Tony like a princess greeting suitors at a ball. “My hero,” he says in an exaggerated falsetto, pretending to swoon. “Without your— _ hic— _ help, I would’ve died in a pool of my own blood.”

Tony lets out a long-suffering sigh, ever-so-gently rubbing the ointment on Peter’s finger. When he’s done, he presses the tiniest of kisses to the finger’s tip, then bows sarcastically. It looks incredibly awkward, what with him being seated and all. “Your hero indeed.” 

Tony returns his work while Peter tries every hiccup remedy he (and FRIDAY) can think of. He gulps water, he holds his breath, he gulps water while holding his breath, and he gulps water while holding his breath and hanging upside down from the ceiling, but to no avail.

“Ok, kid, enough. You’re driving me insane.”

“Mr. Stark! I’ve been hiccuping for like, half an hour.” He jumps down from the ceiling. “What did I do to deserve such a cruel fate?”

“You know, my mom always said that whenever you had the hiccups, it was because someone was thinking about you.”

Peter hums. “That doesn’t seem scientifically accurate.”

“It’s not.” Tony shrugged. “Some old superstition, I guess.”

“Who would be thinking about little old me, anyway? May? Harley?” Peter hiccups, then thinks for a moment. “ _ You? _ ”

“Nice try, kiddo. I’ve never thought about you in my life. I definitely don’t lay awake at night, worrying about you, wondering if you got hurt on patrol and somehow hid it from Karen, or if you’re eating enough, or if your Spanish test went okay. Nuh uh. It’s a no from me.”

Peter scoffs. “I call BS. You’re like, the most high-strung person I know. You worry about  _ everything.  _ You insisted on putting Neosporin on a tiny little scratch. I’m pretty sure— _ hic— _ you would wrap me and Harley bubble wrap and roll us around all day like Violet Beauregarde if we’d let you.”

“Like who?” Tony’s arms are crossed defensively. “Doesn’t matter. Anyway, it’s not my fault you two have four brain cells between you and the self-preservation instincts of a couple of pigeons on crack.”

“Have you ever even  _ seen  _ a pigeon on crack?” A beat. “Oh, yeah. Clint.”

Tony cackles, slapping his knees. His face crinkles up in the corners of his eyes and across his forehead, and his eyes positively sparkle. “I’m calling him right now to tell him you said that. FRI?”

“Nonono-- _ hic-- _ nononono,” Peter yells, frantically waving his arms and lightly kicking Tony’s shins. “He still hasn’t forgiven me for that time I accidentally turned on the heat while he was still in the vents.”

“Okay, okay, I concede.” He holds up his hands placatingly. “I wouldn’t want him to like, poop on your car or lay eggs on your windowsill.”

“I am eternally grateful.” Peter melts onto a chair in relief. “But don’t think I-- _ hic-- _ forgot about our previous conversation. I  _ know  _ you think about me. Under that cold, hard, gold-titanium-alloy exterior, Tony Stark has a heart. A mushy, gushy heart. Made of-- _ hic _ \--sunshine and rainbows.”

Tony sniffs. “Alright. You got me. But if you tell anyone, I’ll be forced to spend all day every day thinking about you as retribution. You can kiss your hiccup-free days goodbye.” 

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Peter winks. “But for what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure people already know. Pepper, Harley, Rhodey, Happy…” He ticks each one off on his fingers. “Nat, Steve, Bruce, that one-- _ hic-- _ paparazzi guy who caught you crying over a cute dog in the park…”

“It really was adorable,” Tony says, his eyes misting over ever so slightly with the memory. “Now could you please stop hiccupping every five seconds? It’s making me want to hurl myself out a window.”

“I can't!” Peter whines, helpless. He spins himself around in lazy circles on the rolling chair. “Didn’t your mom have any miracle cures?”

“Sure she did. Just stop behaving recklessly and give your poor old mentor a break so he can stop worrying about you, and they’ll go away. Easy peasy.” He gestures to the corner of the lab. “Also, go grab me that box of parts.”

Peter narrows his eyes. “That’s incredibly specific,” he says, but retrieves the box anyway.

“Thanks, bud.” Tony ruffles his hair. Peter smiles despite himself.

Tony instructs FRIDAY to play some music and they both return to their projects. Peter is so engrossed in re-writing the suit that he doesn’t notice his lack of hiccups until like, an hour later. 

“Mr. Stark! My hiccups! They’re gone!”

Tony glances up at him and grins. “See? I told you. Maria Stark never lied.”

Peter hiccups. They both groan.

“Maria Stark might’ve lied just a little.” Tony grimaces and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Hey, would you be opposed to me sneaking up behind you when you least expect it and scaring the bejeezus out of you?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the very definition of Ned Leeds is a Good Bro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter, but it's something!

Peter was never very good at history. Sure, he’s a whiz with numbers and science and could recite the periodic table from memory when he was six years old, but for some reason, he can’t wrap his brain around the big, broad concepts taught in his history class. 

He likes to imagine that everything he’d ever learned is tucked away in neat little manilla envelopes, labeled and stored in massive mental filing cabinets. On the front of each drawer is a little label describing its contents. For example, one drawer is called “Failed Web Fluid Formulas”, and another, “The Cutest Dogs I’ve Ever Seen”. His favorite drawer is “Obscure Star Wars Facts and Trivia”. (The deepest, dustiest corners of his mind are where he stores the things he wants to forget. Those drawers are labeled “Trauma From My Past” and “People I Failed To Save”. He tries not to open them up.) 

The problem with history is that it doesn’t fit in his mind’s storage unit. He tries his darndest to cram it all in, but history is too all-encompassing, with its context and connections and people and places and years and conflicts. Studying for history class feels like a hopeless fight to stuff as much information as he can inside his brain and lock it up before it can escape.

Thankfully for Peter, Ned is excellent at history and doesn’t mind helping him study. It’s not fair, really. Ned is great at STEM subjects, just like Peter, but he also gets awesome grades in most arts and humanities classes. (At least Peter consistently wipes the floor with him in Spanish class.)

“No more filing cabinets. Think of it as a web,” he always tells Peter. “Draw lines between the connections.” Webs, of course, Peter understands. 

Ned reminds him of that very thing as they stand outside the door to their history classroom, psyching themselves out for the big exam. “It’s all a web, my dude, and you’re the little spider--” he wiggles his eyebrows-- “crawling from the Treaty of Versailles to the beginning of World War II.”

Peter sucks in a deep breath through his mouth, closing his eyes and trying to relax. “I’m the little spider,” he repeats. “Wait, isn’t it dangerous for an insect to be involved in major global conflicts?”

Ned grabs Peter’s face between both hands, squishing his cheeks together and making his lips stick out like a fish. “Shush. You’ve got this, my young Padawan. Just remember, I’ll be sending you good vibes through the Force the whole time.”

“Thanks, Master Nedward,” Peter replies as they enter the classroom. They are seated alphabetically by first name, so Ned takes his seat close to the front with the rest of the “E”s, while Peter sits somewhere in the middle. As the teacher instructs them to begin, Ned shoots him a thumbs up.

The test really isn’t as bad as Peter thought it would be. He thinks he did pretty well on the multiple-choice section, and he finds himself easily swinging from one point to the next on the essay questions thanks to his trusty cognitive web. When this is all over, he's totally going to buy Ned’s sandwiches at Delmar’s for like, a month.

Just as he was really getting going on his explanation of Otto von Bismarck’s new conservatism, frantically writing down his thoughts before they could vanish, he hiccups loudly, the jolt causing him to accidentally draw a line through what he had just written. Several people turn to look at him, and he feels his cheeks heat up. 

He scratches the back of his neck, trying not to look at anyone, but finds himself making eye contact with Ned anyway. Ned, Peter’s wonderful friend, his saving grace, smiles in his direction. It’s small and discreet, but Peter still sees the dimples on his cheeks and the little crinkle between his eyebrows that only appear when he's happy. Peter smiles back, hiccupping again, and remembers what Tony had told him the week before:  _ “My mom always said that whenever you had the hiccups, it was because someone was thinking about you.” _

Ned’s Force-vibes must have been working, because Peter finds himself feeling all warm inside, like someone had wrapped him in a blanket of encouragement and love. Any remaining nervousness dissipates, and he returns to his test, finishing it up just as the bell rings. 

He finds he doesn’t even mind that his hiccups stick around for the remainder of the exam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: the Otto von Bismarck essay Peter's writing is the same essay I had to write for my AP Euro exam in high school. I remembered absolutely nothing about him, but thankfully I'm great at BSing, so I passed anyway :)
> 
> I'm still stuck on what to do for the +1 chapter! I'm open to any and all suggestions. Please help a gal out. The next chapter will be about May :)
> 
> Comments and kudos make me happy and motivate me to keep writing!!! Love you guys!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this house we love and respect May Parker

Peter slides his window open quietly, trying not to wake May. She has work early in the morning, and goodness knows she needs her sleep. He climbs through into his bedroom, landing on the floor without a sound. 

It had been a really rough night for Spider-Man. It had started out okay--he’d rescued a little girl’s birthday balloon from a tree in Central Park and taught a group of confused tourists how to use the subway--but as the night wore on, he’d grown more and more discouraged. It wasn’t even the result of a particular event or anything; it’s just the accumulation of the stresses and pressures of vigilantism. On nights like these, he just gets so frustrated with people. Sure, he loves New York more than Sinatra himself, but sometimes, he just wants to slap all eight million residents (okay,  _ most  _ of them) upside the head and tell them to be nice to each other, for goodness sake. 

Is it so hard to just follow the rules and be decent human beings? Peter had lived in the city all his life, but it had taken becoming Spider-Man for him to really see all the terrible things that happened in his beloved city. Everywhere he went, he noticed the effects of someone’s carelessness.

Plus, he felt responsible for a lot of it--if he’d stayed out just a little bit longer or ventured another mile from home, maybe he could’ve prevented the racist graffiti on the wall of the subway car or webbed up the teenage hooligans who had broken into sweet old Mrs. Kowalski’s bakery. If Spider-Man were more capable, he could’ve stopped that guy from overdosing in a dark alley or convinced that woman not to drive while drunk. 

Sometimes, he wishes he could go back to being regular old Peter Parker, an average guy who saw the best in everything and everyone. He wishes being a hero didn’t mean having the weight of the world on your shoulders. He wishes he didn’t have to see so much suffering.

He gets ready for bed as quick as he can and collapses onto his bed. He shuts his eyes and tries to think of something else, anything besides the crushing feeling in his heart and the hopelessness rising up inside him. He’s just about to drift off when a particularly violent hiccup lurches his whole body.

“Peter?” he hears from just outside his door. “I didn’t realize you were home yet,” May says, pushing it open. She’s wearing one of Ben’s old t-shirts and her favorite pair of Christmas pajama pants. She crosses the room and sits at the edge of his bed. 

Peter rolls over to face her. “I told you to stop waiting up for me.”

“I can’t help it. I worry about you, baby,” she says, pushing his hair back from his forehead. She’s not wearing her glasses, so she squints a little bit in the darkness. Peter can’t help but notice the little lines at the corners of her eyes. “How was patrol?”

He hiccups again, then shrugs. “Alright, I guess.” He can tell from May’s expression that she doesn’t believe him, but thankfully, she lets it drop for now. She knows he doesn’t like to talk about things right away; he wants to be able to ruminate for a while and gather his thoughts.

“You can tell me more in the morning, how about that?” She kisses his forehead and tweaks his nose. Peter nods. He can hear the rasping of his hair against the pillowcase.

“Night, May. Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetie. Sleep well.” She presses one last kiss to the side of Peter’s head, then stands up and leaves, closing the door quietly behind her.

Peter doesn’t feel all the way better, but he does feel a little bit better, which is something, he supposes. He sure is lucky to have someone to come home to at night, someone who loves him more than anyone else in the whole world and who he loves back just as fiercely. 

He wonders, sometimes, what his mom would think of his late-night activities. Would she be proud of him, like May? Would she stay up ‘til the wee hours of the morning, waiting to make sure he got home safe? Would he feel the same warmth in his chest when she came to kiss him goodnight that he felt right now for May?

With one last hiccup, he tugs the blankets up to his chin and finally relaxes. Being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is hard, but he feels better knowing that he’ll always have someone at home rooting for him. He knows the city is full of people like May--kind, selfless people--and that’s the reason he keeps fighting to make the world a better place. After everything May has done for him, it’s the least he can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk why I decided to write this fic in present tense. I am having such a hard time wrapping my brain around it. I keep accidentally using past tense and then have to go back and fix it. Why am I like this
> 
> Anyway next we have MJ and then Harley!! Let me know what you think so far!


	4. Chapter 4

The next bout of hiccups comes at perhaps the most inconvenient time. They are rapid-fire, unrelenting. Peter's string of webbing goes in completely the wrong direction, and he barely manages to shoot another before he meets his untimely end as a spider-flavored pancake on the ground. He doesn't make it through the ordeal entirely unscathed, though--his sigh of relief is cut short by his knees slamming into the wall in front of him. 

_I really need people to stop thinking about me,_ he muses as he scales the building. He pulls himself up onto the roof to wait it out and also make sure he hadn't shattered his kneecaps. Nobody thinking about him, no hiccups...it would be like the opposite of the mortifying ordeal of being known: The relieving ordeal of being _un_ known. He wonders if Tony had accidentally set a curse on him that day in the lab. Superstitions are not something you wanted to mess with--he'd seen enough in his time as Spider-Man to know to never take your chances with weird metaphysical stuff.

He sits atop a random building in Queens, [poking his knees](https://youtu.be/U9t-slLl30E?t=187), and finds that they don't hurt too bad. Just bruised. He sincerely hopes nobody caught a video of his latest stunt; the people don't need any more content to add to their " _spiderman smacking into walls for 6 mins straight_ " compilations on YouTube. Tony makes fun of him enough as it is. 

Thankfully, Peter's hiccups only last a minute or two. He's about to take off again when Karen informs him he's just received a message from MJ. A pop-up appears on his heads-up display notifying him about a spike in his heart rate. He hastily dismisses it, not eager for Tony to get a distress signal about his irregular vitals. He can imagine what a fun phone conversation that would be: _No, no, Mr. Stark, I promise I'm not bleeding out or anything, I just got irrationally excited about a text from a girl I've been hopelessly pining for for months. Yes, the scary one. No, please don't set us up on an expensive_ _date on top of the Empire State Building. No, I don't need The Talk._

"Lemme see, Karen," he says eagerly. 

It's a stupid meme about his beloved Mets and their fans' foolhardy persistence despite the team's infamous losing streak. He supposes he should be at least slightly offended, but instead, he giggles. _"Dis u",_ MJ had captioned the image, never one for using more letters than necessary. He sighs happily, laying back on the rough concrete of the rooftop, his head pillowed atop his hands. He's so elated, he can almost ignore the rock digging into his back and the persistent ache in his kneecaps. "What should I say?" he asks Karen.

"As an artificial intelligence, I don't have much experience in the nuances of communication between two young people who are interested in each other romantically. Perhaps I should contact Mr. Stark for advice?"

Peter hurriedly sits up. "That won't be necessary."

"Are you sure? Mr. Stark has extensive experience in the art of seduction."

He groans and claps his hands over his ears. "Karen, for the love of all things holy, I am begging you to please shut the heck up. Please never say something like that again. I'll do it myself."

Peter sits on the rooftop for far too long, gravelly pieces of rock poking his butt, crafting the perfect response. He tries out several different replies, including " _haha it's true though_ " (too lame), _"hey WHAT did the mets ever do to you"_ (too aggressive), and " _i love you Please have my babies_ " (too creepy). After a good fifteen minutes, he gives up, telling Karen to just send her a laughing emoji and a thumbs up.

As he leaps off the building in search of someone to help, he decides he doesn't mind _certain_ people thinking about him. 

Another message from MJ appears in the corner of his HUD. It's a link to a video called " _NEW! Spider-Man Breaks BOTH His Knees Swinging Into a Brick Wall (GONE WILD!) [not clickbait]_ ". The thumbnail is a clearly photoshopped image of his alter ego splayed out on the ground, laying in a pool of blood.

Peter screams softly, then hiccups. He's definitely cursed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually find Peter/MJ super boring, but I hope I made them at least a little bit interesting in this chapter :) 
> 
> P.S. I stole Peter's love of the Mets from my beloved floweryfran hehe
> 
> P.P.S. Comment if you found the special surprise in this chapter! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very mild spoilers for Onward! I know it came out this year and this fic takes place sometime pre-IW/Endgame, but fanfiction is not the place for continuity

Peter cannot  _ believe  _ Harley talked him into waiting to see  _ Onward  _ until his next visit to the city. “It’s a movie about brotherly love, so I  _ have to  _ watch it with my best bro, who I love,” Harley had said on FaceTime one day. He’d absolutely insisted they experience it together. Not even Peter could resist Harley’s persuasive charm, so he indulged him, even though he’d kind of wanted to ask MJ to see it with him on a date to the movie theater, but whatever. 

On Harley’s frequent visits to New York for college tours and engineering conferences, the two are basically inseparable. They spend every waking (and sleeping) moment together. Tony and May always joke that they couldn’t pry the boys apart with a crowbar. For their long-awaited movie night, they sit tangled together on the plush couch in Tony’s living room, finally watching Pixar’s latest masterpiece. Tony is asleep in the leather chair in the corner, snoring softly like the dorky dad he is. Peter and Harley try their best to be quiet, knowing that Tony rarely gets enough sleep. 

Peter’s leg is on Harley’s lap, and Harley’s head is on Peter’s shoulder. They pass a bowl of popcorn mixed with M&Ms--Peter’s movie snack of choice--back and forth. He leaves the green ones for Harley, since they’re his favorite.

Just as the emotional montage of important moments from Ian and Barley’s childhood plays, Peter hiccups, jostling Harley. “Hey,” he protests, and sniffs.

“Sorry.” Peter hears another sniffle. “Oh my gosh, are you-- _ hic-- _ crying?”

Harley removes his head from Peter’s shoulder. His eyes are definitely red-rimmed and watery. “I can’t help it, okay? Two teenage brothers, coming together despite their differences and bonding over shared trauma and various adventures...man, it gets me right in the feels.”

Peter narrows his eyes at him and hiccups. “You’re thinking about me, aren’t you?”

“What! No way!” he protests, but pats Peter’s cheek with a fond look on his face. “I guess Tony told you about that weird superstition, too, huh?”

“Yeah, he said it was something his mom believed, I guess. It’s really freaky, but I think it might be true.” As much as Peter hates to admit it, his frequent bouts of hiccups over the past month or so  _ do _ seem to coincide with instances of people directing their thoughts toward him. It might be the placebo effect or confirmation bias or whatever, but after seeing Doctor Strange practice literal magic, he is willing to believe in pretty much anything. 

He explains his recent experiences with Ned, May, and MJ. They all seem to point to the conclusion that Maria Stark was right. “Maybe she’s like, haunting you or something?” Harley suggests. Peter glances at Tony, still fast asleep, a thin dribble of drool making its way down his chin. Knowing how absolutely crazy Tony can be, Peter wouldn’t put it past Maria to do something like that.

“I don’t know, man.” Peter shakes his head and grabs another handful of chocolatey popcorn. 

They turn their attention back to the movie. Peter continues hiccuping, causing Harley to complain, but Peter tells him it’s his own dang fault for being so sappy. 

“Hey, do you think his voice sounds familiar?” Harley asks toward the end of the movie.

“Whose?”

“Ian’s. The voice actor must’ve been in something else, right?”

“I dunno. Maybe you should— _ hic— _ look it up.”

“Nah. I left my phone in the kitchen.” Harley puts the bowl of popcorn aside and shifts so his head is pillowed on Peter’s lap. 

As the two brothers share an embrace onscreen, Peter hears more sniffles coming from Harley’s direction and feels something wet drip onto his thigh. “You’re an absolute sap,” he says. “If anyone ever accuses you of being heartless, I’ll tell them about the time you cried on my lap while watching a kids’ movie and got tears all over my favorite pair of pajama pants.”

“Once they find out it was  _ Onward,  _ they’ll understand.” Harley wipes his nose on his sleeve. “It just reminds me a little bit of us, you know?”

A smile creeps onto Peter’s face. “Yeah, I know.” He leans down and pecks Harley on the side of his head, then hiccups so loudly and violently, Tony is startled awake with a groan. 

“Was that a gunshot?” Tony asks groggily, wiping his eyes. “I thought I said no more guns in the house.”

“Nah, it was just the movie,” Peter lies. “Go back to sleep, grandpa.” Tony pulls his blanket up to his chin and resumes his snoring. 

They finish the movie in peaceful silence. Peter’s hiccups stop, thanks to the good grace of Maria Stark’s ghost. As the end credits roll, painting the room in shifting white light, Harley whispers, “You know, I’d go on a dangerous adventure with you and fight a dragon if it meant you’d get to see your uncle one last time.”

“Ditto.”

“All my uncles are still alive.”

“Shut up.” Peter whacks the back of his head, but with affection. “Love you too, you big dummy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty proud of this chapter! Please let me know what you think. I'm still not sure what to do with the last chapter, but I'll figure it out, I guess. Thanks for reading! <3  
> 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...and the one time Tony does!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to floweryfran for her consultation and thanks to all of you for reading! This is my first-ever multi-chaptered fic, and I'm so glad you're all enjoying it :)

Not even Tony can resist Peter and Harley’s combined forces of persuasion. One look at their puppy-dog eyes and he acquiesces, handing over two invitations to Stark Industries’ annual benefit gala.

“No trouble, you hear?” he says, pointing at each of them in turn. “And don’t even think about sneaking a glass of champagne. The bartenders will be under strict orders to refuse service to underage hooligans.”

“Yes, sir,” Harley says, rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling. He shares a discreet fist bump with Peter just out of sight. 

Phase One is complete.

\------

Phase Two proves to be a bit more difficult. 

“All we need you to do is like, sit there and think  _ really  _ hard about Tony while he’s giving his speech,” Peter explains to Natasha. He and Harley are sitting opposite her at a booth in a tiny little diner. All three of them are sipping deliciously thick milkshakes topped with mountains of whipped cream.

She won’t be attending the gala as Natasha Romanoff, of course, on account of her status as a wanted criminal. She plans on wearing a blonde wig and a skimpy hot pink dress and introducing herself as one of her many aliases: Georgia Livingston, a bubbly California heiress with two brain cells and an Ivy League degree bought by her daddy.

“Why?” she questions, narrowing her eyes. She takes a sip from her milkshake in a way that makes Peter feel threatened, somehow. No matter how much time he spends with her or how well he gets to know her, he’s still at least a little bit afraid of her. She reminds him of MJ.

“Because it’ll give him the hiccups,” Harley explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why?” she asks again, like the petulant toddler she secretly is on the inside.

“Because Maria Stark’s ghost will use her ghostly gifts to harness the power of our thoughts and manifest them in the form of hiccups, which she will then bestow upon Tony, her beloved son, and embarrass him in front of like a thousand people from beyond the grave,” Harley elaborates. “Or something.”

“Why?”

“For the love of--Nat, we already explained it.” Peter sighs dramatically. “Are you in or are you out?”

Natasha smiles in that secret little way that means she’s about to cause some mischief. “Oh, yeah. I’m willing to do anything and everything I can to humiliate Tony after that Vine he posted of me singing in the shower.”

“He did  _ what _ ?” Harley sputters at the same time Peter asks, “Tony has a  _ Vine?’ _

Natasha shushes them, twirling her milkshake straw lazily. “He  _ had  _ a Vine,” she explains, and then fails to elaborate. Peter is too afraid to ask.

“Alrighty, then.” Harley extends a hand for her to shake and pretends to tip an imaginary hat. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Livingston.”

She laughs. “It was, like, totally cool, wasn’t it?” she responds in an exaggerated valley girl accent.

“Just please don’t tell Pepper,” Peter implores. Natasha winks. 

\------

By the end of Phase Two, they have acquired two more allies: Rhodey, who is always looking for opportunities to make Tony’s life harder, and Bruce, who Peter suspects is just desperate to make friends.

“Why do you want to go so bad?” Tony asks as he ties Peter’s bow tie. “Every time I’ve brought it up in the past, you’ve flat-out refused.”

“Just looking for something fun to do with Harley while he’s in town, I guess.” It’s technically the truth. Peter looks over at Harley and smiles. 

Tony finishes the tie with a pat on the shoulder, then moves on to Harley. “What about you, farm boy? Thought you were too good for fancy parties.”

“Oh, I am. It’s just that this one isn’t fancy.”

“Ouch.” Tony flicks him in the ear. “I spent a lot of money on this shindig.” He takes a couple steps back and admires Peter and Harley, hands on his hips. “Look at you. My boys are growing up.” 

Peter blushes, and Harley groans. Tony presses a kiss to the top of each of their heads before heading towards the door. Before he leaves, though, he turns around and meets their eyes in turn. “No trouble, you hear?”

“Who, us?” Harley asks with a toothy grin. 

———

Finally, the time for the speech arrives. Phase Three is the easiest of all: just sit in the audience and use their psychic powers for mischief. 

As special guests of Tony Stark himself, Peter, Harley, and company have seats right on the front row. 

“I’m just, like, so excited to see him from such a good seat? I’ve heard he’s even more handsome up close,” Natasha (er,  _ Georgia _ ) says. 

“Take it from someone who’s accidentally seen him naked too many times, he’s really not,” Rhodey replies with a little grimace.

“Ooh, you’ve seen him naked? Tell me more!” Natasha squeals, tucking her blonde wig behind her ears.

“Please don’t,” begs Bruce. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “So, uhh...how about those Mets?” he redirects, hastily changing the subject.

“What’s a Met?” Natasha asks with a pointed look directly at Peter. It takes all of his willpower to not rise to the bait.

Peter can see Tony and Pepper waiting off to the side of the raised platform upon which somebody begins introducing the man of the hour. 

“Good evening, everyone,” the announcer begins. The crowd quiets. “This man needs no introduction,” she continues, but proceeds to introduce him anyway. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, savior of the world five times over, the gracious host of tonight’s wonderful gala….

Peter catches Tony’s eye and shoots him a subtle thumbs up.  _ Good luck,  _ he mouths. Tony smiles and winks. 

“Here he is: Tony Stark!” The crowd applauds politely. Pepper straightens his lapels, kisses his cheek, and shoos him onto the stage. 

Peter and his band of idiots put their metaphorical thinking caps on. Harley strikes a pose so similar to “The Thinker” that Rodin himself would be proud. Natasha pops her bubblegum and fidgets with her charm bracelet, but there’s an intensity to her gaze that Peter’s glad he’s not on the receiving end of. Rhodey looks like he’s trying hard not to bust out laughing. Bruce just looks like he has to poop. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending our annual gala benefiting the September Foundation,” Tony begins. Peter stops listening after that, having heard him practice the speech a million times already. Instead, he focuses every ounce of mental energy on thinking about Tony. 

It’s like conjuring a Patronus, if a Patronus were a force for funny business instead of a heavenly spectre made of good thoughts and happiness. Peter concentrates all his willpower on his memories of Tony, both good and not-so-good: seeing him at the Stark Expo as a kid, watching Iron Man fly into a wormhole on the news, meeting him after school that day in his apartment, the fight after Peter’s ferry fiasco, their first lab session, the look on Tony’s face the first time Peter had jokingly called him “Dad”, the terror in his eyes he gets whenever Spider-Man’s in trouble, the time he tucked Peter into bed after a terrible nightmare….

Tony hiccups. Peter startles out of his reverie and elbows Harley in the side. “It worked,” he whispers, beaming. Finally, his revenge for the plague of hiccups Tony had cursed him with.

“Heck yes,” Harley replies, smacking Peter’s hand in a low-five and grabbing on, giving it a little squeeze. 

Natasha leans forward, looking down the row at Peter. She’s grinning. Bruce, on the other hand, looks horrified. “I didn’t think it would actually work,” he hisses, dropping his face into his hands.

“Traitor,” Rhodey says, and gently kicks his ankle.

On the stage, Tony continues hiccuping. It’s a bad case, and every few seconds, his speech is interrupted. The crowd giggles. “Take a sip of water,” someone calls from the back of the room.

“While holding your breath,” another adds.

“And tilting your head back,” a wise-looking older woman suggests. Peter would listen to her.

Pretty soon, everyone’s suggesting their own hiccup remedies. “Swallow a spoonful of cinnamon,” Harley yells. “And post it on YouTube.” 

Tony Stark, ever the showman, is unfazed. “Thank you, everyone,” he laughs, and takes a sip from the water bottle stashed under the podium. He makes a big show of holding his breath and tilting his head back before taking another swig. The audience is delighted. “You know, my mom-- _ hic-- _ always told me that when you have the hiccups, it’s because someone’s thinking about you. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.” The crowd laughs, and Tony basks in the attention. 

“How about this? When we’re done here, I’ll watch-- _ hic _ \--back the footage of my speech, and for every hiccup, I’ll add another $1,000 to my fund to match your donations to the September Foundation.” The crowd cheers. Pepper looks incredibly pleased.

Peter gives Harley a forlorn look. “It worked  _ too _ well,” he says despairingly. 

Harley pats his knee. “I guess that’s what we get for trying to embarrass our beloved mentor.”

Tony finishes his speech to uproarious applause. Peter sulks. 

Afterwards, the gang mingles with the rest of the guests. Harley sneaks a sip of Natasha’s champagne and immediately spits it back out with a long string of expletives. “My throat--it’s burning--Pete, I think I’m dying,” he chokes out.

“I guess that’s like, payback or whatever for stealing my drink? That’s like, not very nice, you know?” Natasha says, chewing her gum loudly. She’s having way too much fun pretending to be the human equivalent of a Barbie doll.

“Shut it, Georgia,” Harley replies, still coughing.

Peter and Harley eventually drift away from the group, tired of explaining to everyone they meet that they’re just Tony’s interns, not his secret love-children born from a torrid affair in his playboy days. (Seriously, it had come up at least six times.)

As they lean side-by-side against a wall, yawning (it’s  _ way  _ past bedtime), they hiccup in tandem. Peter whips around to look at Harley, and Harley does the same.

“Did you just--”

“Oh my gosh--”

Peter sees Tony out of the corner of his eye. He wiggles his eyebrows and gives a sarcastic salute, then ducks out of sight.

“How does he always know?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Harley are living back in the good old days...RIP vine

**Author's Note:**

> Has anyone else heard this superstition? We talk about it all the time in my family and idk if it's a thing for other people or just something my Austrian grandmother made up.  
> If you want more irondad, might I recommend [the secret ingredient](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19934920)? Also, I just posted this fic for floweryfran's bday and I'm particularly proud of it: [such a cute family](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23851486). It's got lots of ironfam feels :)


End file.
